


Collusion

by Lunacynn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Oops, Smut, Swearing, The Hanged Man - Freeform, Wicked Grace, cliche shit, direct!Hawke, idk man I just wanted to write them having sex, lots of swearing, red!hawke - Freeform, short and to the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunacynn/pseuds/Lunacynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you let me sleep in your not-as-comfy-as-mine bed tonight, I’ll promise to play Wicked Grace next time and collude with you instead of risking colluding with Isabela.” – the fic wherein Wicked Grace leads to sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collusion

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write often. I don't write smut often. I have never written DA stuff before. That being said,.. enjoy!

The Hanged Man smells like shit at all hours of the day, but at night, it’s exponentially worse. 

She’s used to the shit smell, though ‘shit’ is putting it mildly. But the people-watching distracts her from it. Regulars, one-timers never to be seen again, those who come in once in a blue moon. Some are here to unwind with company, others are here to get laid, few are actually here for the ale, but everyone’s got a mug in hand. 

She takes a chug of her Shit Juice, while she maintains line of sight on him, dealing the cards for Wicked Grace, all the while smirking like he knows it’s going to be a great game for the House and a terrible one for everyone else - because that’s exactly what it’s going to be. His mannerisms are slight, but noticeable - if you’re looking carefully. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to play, Killer?”

“You ask me every time, and every time I’m just going to tell you no. I see the game you’re playing, Varric, and it ain’t Wicked Grace.” 

He winks at her, and finishes dealing to Isabela, Merrill, Anders and Fenris. She loves watching them play: looking for their tells, figuring out what cards they have, laughing when she sees their faces when they realize that they’ve lost yet again to either Varric or Isabela, or shit - both. 

She loves watching Varric most of all, the way his fingers dance with the cards, the way his nose crinkles a little when he’s trying to get someone to pitch more into the pot, but especially when he smiles like a kid trying elfroot for the first time as he wins. It warms her heart seeing that smile, even if it means looking at her companions and seeing their hearts in pieces. 

Five mugs of Shit Sludge down, a few companions lesser, and she’s ready to call it a night, but doesn’t move. She’d rather not go back to the now-lonely mansion. She’s still not used to it. She doesn’t want to get used to it. 

After Isabela chugs a few more mugs down, she leaves and it’s just Varric. 

“You know, if you just played once, I’m sure you’d win. You’ve watched me long enough that you’ll hand me my ass pretty quickly.”

“I’d much prefer to watch you, though I do like the idea of handling your ass.”

He chuckles then takes the last swig of his Shit Potion. “I’m glad I can provide some entertainment. You’re not that bad to watch either. Too bad your ass isn’t as pretty as mine.”

“Fuck you, my ass is plenty pretty.” She smirks and him, and he can’t help but smile back. She leans slightly forward, although she’s still a full seat away from him, but this gives him a nicer view of her cleavage, which without the breastplate, is already quite the sight. Never without a reason for her actions, she knows this works him up a little, and she loves it. She loves fucking with his head, almost as much as the idea of fucking him. She knows he isn’t into human women, but he still visibly gets riled - again, only if you’re looking carefully - when she’s forward with him and that intrigues her. Both mentally and physically. 

He looks back up at her eyes and clears his throat, getting out of the chair as he does. She’s attracted to him and she makes it known to him fairly obviously enough - though ask their companions and they wouldn’t have had the slightest. A few comments here and there, a few suggestive mannerism there and here. He’s never once reciprocated physically. Always verbally playful and insinuating, but never direct. 

She can’t stand it. She also can’t really stand. She follows him, attempting to get out of her own chair, but her ass slams back down on the flimsy wooden chair.

“You know, if you know how drunk you get after three, why do you continue drinking? It’s almost like you want me to help carry you to my crappy couch. Don’t you have a mansion with a too-damn-large bed?” He rolls his eyes as he helps her sling an arm over his shoulder and drags her up the steps and into his private suite.

Except, she CAN actually stand on her own. I mean, it would be a bit of a hassle, but her body is used to the Shit Piss well enough to be able to wobble her way back to Hightown enough to make it there without killing a few assholes. But Varric doesn’t know that, and if he does, he’s always willing to play along. 

It doesn’t smell like Shit in his suite. She loves it in there. It’s everything her mansion isn’t and she wishes this was her home - even if it meant having to deal with The Hanged Man every time she wanted to sleep. The emptiness of the mansion makes it unappealing to stumble her way back to, and Varric makes it very appealing to just play the Drunkard. 

“Am I that obvious, Varric? It’s almost like I want you to touch me as much as I can purposefully make you.” 

“Hawke..”

Plopping down on his couch, across from his bed, she sighs. He always warns her when she’s gone a little too far - he always turned down her advances. But she can’t help it. She knows what she wants and she wants him. Even when she was with the others - sexually and romantically - she put Varric first. At first, not really understanding her feelings, at first not really realizing that her prioritizing him was way more than just a ‘friendship thing’. One day it sort of just hit her. Or more like her orgasm hit her during masturbation and it was Varric she was thinking about. 

“If you let me sleep in your not-as-comfy-as-my-bed tonight, I’ll promise to play Wicked Grace next time and collude with you instead of risking colluding with Isabela.”

He was already busy in his makeshift bathroom, getting ready for bed, when he raised his voice, “Don’t make promises you don’t intend on keeping. Besides, I hog the covers. You won’t like that.”

She gets up from the couch, fully capable of doing so on her own and quickly works to take off her boots and leathers. She surprises him when he steps out and sees her topless, with nothing on but her smalls. He’s taken off his blouse and trousers and replaced them with a pair of sleeping pants and a loose tunic. His hair is down, sans the tiny ponytail he usually keeps part of his hair in. She’s seen him like this plenty, but right now, it gets her very worked up.

One thing she’s not certain about is why she chose tonight to make her move. There was nothing special about today, or any recent events, but maybe that’s why? Nothing else to distract them from just them. 

“Andraste’s tits - err, fuck. Shit. I mean… holy shit, Hawke.” He can’t help but stare, and she can’t help but blush a little as she slowly sits down on his bed facing him. 

“Andraste’s tits ain’t got shit on mine.” Slowly, she lays back down and stretched her arms above her head, accentuating her every curve. He can’t help but stare, and also to harden. He walks closer to the bed, then stops abruptly and about faces to the couch, where he immediately sits down. She sits up quickly, a slight frown on her face.

“The couch isn’t as hard on my back as it is on yours, but take my bed again and next time I’ll make you go to one of my merchant guild meetings with me.” 

He’s trying to play is cool, trying to ignore it all, but he can’t hide how hard he is - this gives her fuel. 

“Once upon a time you told me that human women didn’t do it for you, that human women were too tall and didn’t fill your hands when you groped them.” She’s standing up now, inching her way to him, looking directly at the tent that formed in his pants, “but I honestly think I can fill those big hands of yours easily, and I’m not too tall if I sit like this,” finally in front of him, she sits on his lap facing him, straddling him and sinking slowly down. She sits so that he can feel her entrance up against him, which makes him immediately shut his eyes, thinking that if he can’t see what’s going on maybe he won’t unravel - maybe he won’t just fucking explode right this second. 

He didn’t think human women turned him on either. Hawke was tall for him, though short for a human, and can definitely fill up his hands both in front and behind. He didn’t think human women turned him on, but Hawke did. He didn’t realize this until one day, after a particularly long day, he decided to take matters into his own hands and all that came to mind to help him out was Hawke. Particularly, the memory of Hawke analyzing him earlier that week during a game of Wicked Grace. She had been biting her lower lip most of the time, causing it to swell a little and briefly wished he was able to taste her lips. It helped him over the edge, just that fleeting thought and he knew he was fucking screwed. 

He didn’t want to be, I mean he definitely did want to be screwed, but he didn’t want to fuck up their friendship. He loved it when Hawke flirted with him, but if things got too.. heavy, what if it didn’t work out? She was the only good thing is his life. He didn’t wanted that fucked up, like all the other parts of his life ended up being. 

“Hawke, we can’t.” 

“Yes we can.” 

“What happens after?”

“We eat breakfast.”

She’s leaning in close to his face, smiling to herself, as he still has his eyes closed. Her hands splay over his chest and poked a finger into his tunic to play with his chest hair. He bites his lip. 

“You know I love me some good breakfast. But who says you’ll be awake in the morning? You know, dwarves have much better stamina than humans.” 

She starts to rock on his lap, causing him to throb. Her smalls are getting wet just thinking about going all night with him. 

“Take me out to dinner, then.”

His hands go from being at his side, to being all over hers. He grips her waist and helps rock her as he finally opens his eyes. He’s looking right into Hawke’s eyes and he swears he thinks he’s about to explode. She’s smiling at him as she rakes one hand down to his pants. Fuck it, he thinks. If this ends in catastrophe, so be it. He doesn’t know which head he’s thinking with when his hands slide down to her ass and gripes firmly.

She moans and leans in closer so their lips are just barely touching. 

“Fuck me, Varric.”

And that gets him. He’s definitely thinking with the right head when he lifts her up by her ass and helps her take off her smalls. He takes off his own shirt and adjust so that he's able to pull out and she immediately goes wide eyed. It’s better than she ever imaged, not abnormally long, but thicker than she anticipated and it makes her all the more wet. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a warm up?” She’s hovering just above him, dripping with anticipation. 

“I’m already warmed up.” 

“Not to brag, but.. hell, I’m bragging: I’m definitely thicker than anyone you’ve been with. Are you sure you don’t want a warm up?”

They’re smiling at each other - she’s loving his confidence almost as much as she loves his consideration. 

“You definitely are, which is why I’m all the more eager.” She lowers herself down just a bit, so that the tip is just barely pushing into her - teasing him, so that he makes the first move of insertion. 

“There’s no going back from this, Hawke.” 

“I don’t intend on going back, Varric, just coming.” 

He raises his hips suddenly, filling her up. She yelps in surprise and then moans from the stretching. His hand move down from her ass to her thighs, while one hand continues towards her clit. She closes her eyes as she continues to settle on him and feels his hand go for her sweet spot. He starts to play with her, building her up slowly, when she starts to move up and down steadily - still getting used to him.

“Maker, you feel so good.” She bites her lip as she picks up the pace, her breasts beginning to bounce up and down. His fingers work her faster, too, feeling her walls clench every so often. 

“No Maker here, just you and me,” he whispers. He stops playing with her and slides both his hands back up to her waist, where he starts to help her bounce up and down faster. They’re both moaning and panting louder and heavier, rising towards the peak together. Varric just barely holding on - waiting for her to release first before he does. She can feel her close, her walls clenching in on him even more now. 

Quickly he flips them over and hooks her leg over his shoulder so that he’s getting a much deeper and slightly higher angle on her. This does it. A few thrusts and she’s screaming his name. He can feel her walls contracting around him and this finally sends him over as well. She can feel him pouring into her and it just turns her on even more - she doesn’t want this to stop. But he pulls out once he’s done. The emptiness making her feel cold and leaving her needy.

He’s just looking at her, her hair sticking to her temples, her chest flush and nipples pert. He kisses her. It’s a hungry kiss, like he can’t get enough of her. She opens her mouth and it deepens, making her dizzy from how overwhelmingly amazing and how she no longer feels cold and needy - but complete. She’s moaning into the kiss, as his fingers start to play with her again. He loves how wet she is from their mixed orgasms. He inserts a finger into her as they continue to kiss, her leg still propped up and allowing him for deeper access. As he inserts a second, she break the kissing to moan loudly.

“We should have done this sooner.” 

“Maker knows I’ve been trying to tell you that, but you just wouldn’t listen. You kept turning me down!” He gave her a wide smile as she rolls her eyes at him. 

He inserts a third and she feels like she’s close to flying again. While he pumps her with his fingers, his thumb is working her clit. Soon she’s over again, helping her come back down with slow steading pumps. He watches her, committing her facial expressions to memory, watches are her eyes squeeze shut and then relax as the pulses stop. He could watch her all day every day. Now he can see the appeal of people-watching, especially if his subject is Hawke. Now he can see why she’s always looking at him, watching carefully. She loves everything about him, just as he’s realized how he loves everything about her. 

“Your turn,” she whispers. 

“That was my turn.” 

She smiles at him and flips them over.


End file.
